


A swell time

by frostysunflowers



Series: simply having a wonderful christmas time [6]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Broken Bones, Christmas Fluff, Gen, Hangover, Humor, Ice Skating, Injury, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, have yourself a hailing and frosty christmas, sort of a sickfic I guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28118031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostysunflowers/pseuds/frostysunflowers
Summary: "Peter!""Jesus, kid, what thehell- "Peter groans into the ice, head spinning, breathing thickly through the left corner of his mouth as the blood continues to trickle onto his lips. His arms, spread out either side of him, crook upwards as he tries to move, but he’s saved from the effort as someone grabs him by the shoulders and turns him over."Oh, wow," Happy’s voice hisses.Peter peers up at his blurry outline. "S’it bad?"orPeter finds that ice skating isn't so fun while recovering from an eggnog-induced hangover.
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: simply having a wonderful christmas time [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2041610
Comments: 24
Kudos: 223





	A swell time

**Author's Note:**

> Back again with more christmas fun! Hope you're enjoying this little series so far <3
> 
> Warning for a few instances of vomiting and general hungover horribleness. Enjoy!

There’s a hammer hitting Peter on the head. 

Or maybe it’s a pickaxe, digging its tip right into the base of his skull. 

Whatever it is, it’s working in perfect nauseating tandem with the churning in his stomach. 

With extreme care, Peter twitches his fingers experimentally, then stretches one of his legs. He moves his head slowly, lips smacking against the vile taste clinging to his tongue, then a greasy, hot stench hits his nostrils and he gags loudly. 

"Oh, it’s aliiiive!" calls a voice that he quickly identifies as May’s. "Good morning, sleeping beauty."

Peter groans incoherently, wedging his face back into the fluffy cushion beneath his head to block out the smell. A _buzz buzz_ by his head draws his attention briefly to his phone resting beside the pillow. Craning his neck slightly, Peter looks at the screen and sees a few message notifications covering his background picture of MJ sitting on the fire escape outside her bedroom window, backlit by a frosty pink sunrise. 

_Text me when you’re awake eggnog breath <3 _

_dude wait til you see jamesons latest video he has LOST HIS SHIT_

_are you dead Parker_

Peter moves to pick up the phone properly but quickly buries his face into the cushion again as the smell overwhelms him once more, groaning pitifully as his stomach flip flops. 

"Aw," a different, deeper voice coos teasingly, "makes me feel kinda nostalgic for the old days."

"I imagine you had a lot of mornings like this," May scoffs. 

"Don’t play the innocent act, Parker,'' Tony says. ''I’ve seen you and Pepper after a few bottles of wine and that’s enough for me to know you’ve had your own fair share of drunken chaos in your time."

"At least I didn’t end up on the news during my spring break for kidnapping a pizza guy while under the influence.”

"We didn’t _kidnap_ him. And that was totally Rhodey’s fault by the way. No amount of sangria or tequila could ever make me willingly kidnap someone for fungi pizza - "

Peter whines, gagging again. "Stop, m’gonna puke."

May’s snort of laughter comes from close by. "You already did that, honey. A lot."

"At least you weren’t the one who had to deal with it." 

"I’m sure you’ve dealt with worse, Tony."

"Well, Morgan’s diapers were pretty - "

Peter lurches upright, feet tangling together as he stumbles onto shaking legs. The smell from before barrels into him with the force of a speeding truck and he staggers forth blindly, guided by a steady push against his shoulder blades until he’s leaning into what he thinks is the sink and throwing what must be the entirety of his insides up into it. 

"I guess that’s a no to the bacon then," Tony says from beside him as the hand on his back rubs in firm, soothing circles. "Never mind. More for you, May."

"I don’t eat bacon."

"Okay, I resent this conspiracy to clearly murder me by blocking my arteries."

"Just hurry up and eat it. It’s the fat that’s making him queasy."

"No, that would be the eggnog."

Peter heaves his displeasure into the sink. The hand on his back moves, replaced by a smaller one. May’s perfume masks the smell of the bacon and while it’s not much better, Peter manages to take a few deep breaths without his stomach protesting too violently. 

"So…" May says, clearly trying not to laugh, "did you have fun last night?"

"Prob’ly. Don’t really rem’ber much."

"I’m not surprised."

Peter groans and hiccups wetly. 

"I would say it happens to most of us at some point, kid," Tony says, "but I don’t think many people end up believing they’ve become Santa after falling on the guy whilst drunk off their ass."

Something sparks to life in Peter’s brain; a hazy string of memories that don’t quite seem real, a mess of flying eggs and colourful flickering lights, loud laughter and Santa’s deflated body on the ground, lifeless and flat like a red and white pancake. 

Lifting his head slowly, Peter looks over at Tony in horror. Tony meets his gaze from where he stands at the stove, blinking at him far too innocently, lips pressed thin in a twitching smile. 

"Did - Did I - "

"Kill Santa? Well, if your wonderful ramblings last night are anything to go by, you _are_ Santa."

"Oh, man…"

"I haven’t had time to work on suit prototypes for your new alter ego yet but give me an hour or two, once I’ve eaten my delicious bacon - "

Peter hurls again, barely catching the sound of May whacking Tony on the arm over the ringing in his ears. After what feels like a horribly long time, the nausea eventually ebates enough for him to relax his tense muscles, sagging into the counter by the sink with his face pressed against the cool surface. By now, Tony is sitting down eating a bacon sandwich while May munches on an apple beside him, reading something on her phone. 

Seeming to sense Peter’s gaze, Tony looks up. "Finally running on empty there, Underoos?"

Peter clucks his tongue and grimaces at the taste. He feels like he’s been churned in a blender, stuck in the oven, then prodded with a very large, spiky stick. If this is what a hangover is, he never wants to drink anything alcoholic ever again in his life. Even the tasty liquor chocolates that May always buys specially for Christmas can take a hike. 

"You want some food?"

Peter grunts and shakes his head, only to moan when his skull rattles painfully. "No. Just leave me here to die in peace."

Tony hums thoughtfully. "I guess this wouldn’t be a good time to remind you that today’s the day you promised Morgan that we’d go ice skating."

Peter blinks. "No, no it wouldn’t," he rasps and promptly returns his head to the sink once again. 

* * *

"You okay, kid?"

Peter glares at Tony over the top of his scarf. Bathed in the dazzling glow of the lights surrounding them from every direction, Tony’s grin is almost luminous. He wraps an arm around Peter’s shoulders and pats him firmly through the thick padding of his coat. 

"Little bit of exercise and fresh air will help you feel better."

"Liar," Peter mumbles as he tugs the scarf down to free his mouth. "That’s the complete opposite of what it’ll do."

Tony's grin widens. "I gotta meet my daily quota of lame parental advice, you know."

"You already did that earlier when you told Morgan she wasn’t allowed to date until she was thirty."

"That’s not advice, kid, that’s a fact."

Peter rolls his eyes but doesn’t resist leaning slightly into Tony’s side, letting the man take a little of his weight as they wait for Pepper to finish helping Morgan put her skates on. Tony’s arm tightens a fraction, the way it usually does when he’s thinking about something heavy. This is yet another thing they missed out on last year, and Peter can only imagine how quiet the holidays had been in the five years he’d been gone. But it’s not something he really wants to dwell on right now, especially when the risk of him throwing up again is quite high. 

So instead he settles for staying close and looking around, letting the familiar magic of the scenery wash over him. New York during the holidays is always a beautiful sight, enchanting in every way it should be, the smell of the cold air fresh and sharp on the senses. It’s enough to make Peter feel better.

Almost, kinda, if he doesn’t move his head or let his shoulders shiver too much. 

Admittedly, the hangover isn’t as bad as it had been this morning. He’d finally stopped throwing up by lunchtime and had managed to eat some slices of dry toast and sip down three big glasses of water while watching the video Ned sent him, featuring an apoplectic Jameson screaming and ranting that he knew ‘without a doubt’ that Spider-Man was responsible for the damage and destruction of his property. Peter had then passed out on the couch for a couple of hours, only waking when an excited Morgan shook him awake. 

Now, he just feels gross, shivery, like cold jelly on a plate, which is definitely not the ideal feeling when he’s about to go ice skating. No amount of lightning quick reflexes and spidey senses will do him any good now. 

Still, it’s with a big smile on his face that Peter lets Morgan take his hand and lead him out onto the ice. Happy and May are already somewhere amongst the other skaters, and Peter spots Rhodey standing off to the side, leaning against the rink wall and watching everything with a lazy smile on his face. 

"Come on, Peter!" Morgan cheers and starts moving, her gloved fingers squeezing his as she pulls him along. 

Before the bite, Peter was atrocious at things like this; at anything at all that required some semblance of coordination or balance. He feels that way now, like his feet are made of cotton wool and his legs have turned into pipe cleaners, the probability of him falling over increasing with every stroke of his skates upon the ice. 

After two rather clumsy laps of the rink, Morgan slows down a little and looks up at him. "Do you still feel sick?"

"Uh, little bit, yeah."

"Oh," Morgan frowns. 

Peter squeezes her little gloved hand. "I’m having fun though."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Peter smiles and he means it, because even with the hangover still clinging onto him, how could he not?

Up ahead there’s May, now skating alongside Pepper, their arms linked as they talk, their grins sparkly in the lights. Further ahead, Tony is pestering Rhodey over the wall, the pair of them laughing so hard they can barely speak as they jostle and push one another, while Happy is snapping pictures on his phone, smiling even as he squints at the screen. 

And there’s Morgan, still holding his hand, giggling sweetly as their arms swing between them, so happy just to be doing something as simple as skating by his side. 

As far as picture perfect Christmas moments go, this is definitely up there with the best. 

"Hey, dork."

Peter yelps in surprise and lets go of Morgan as he slides dramatically on the ice, coming close to doing the splits until a hand grabs his arm and holds firm.

"Jeez, MJ," he laughs. "Don’t _do_ that."

"Hi, MJ!" Morgan squeals excitedly. 

MJ smiles at her, pulling Peter back to his feet, keeping a steadying hand wrapped around his forearm. "You having fun?"

Morgan grins, then ducks behind Peter’s leg with a funny giggle. They’ve only met a handful of times since Peter introduced them after the whole mess in Europe, and while Morgan had taken to MJ straight away, she still had little bursts of bashfulness every so often, just like she had done with Peter in the beginning when they sat together by Tony’s bedside, waiting for him to open his eyes. 

Turning her grin onto Peter, MJ asks, "Feeling better?"

"Sorta. Uh, listen, about last night - "

"Don’t worry. It was fun."

"Really?"

"Yeah,'' she says, her smile doing that thing where it turns soft and makes Peter's heart do the flippy thing. 

''Cool,'' he hums dopily. 

MJ nudges him in the ribs. ''I bet Stark’s face was a real picture. I started working on a sketch of it this morning."

"He’ll love that."

MJ snorts. "Maybe I’ll give it to him for Christmas."

"Can we do more skating now?" Morgan pipes up, clearly over her moment of shyness. 

"You wanna come with?" Peter asks MJ, stable enough to wriggle his arm through her hand until their fingers can tangle together. "I mean - if you’re not with people - " he adds, glancing round to see if he can spot any more familiar faces anywhere. 

"Nah, I was just here looking for inspiration." MJ lifts the flap of her coat pocket to reveal a small sketchbook and pencil sticking out from it. "Besides," she teases, "someone’s gotta keep you from falling flat on your face."

They skate along in a line, MJ and Morgan keeping Peter balanced until he feels some of his equilibrium finally stick, allowing him to move off on his own. With his legs remaining strong and the cold of the night fresh in his lungs, knocking the remains of his nausea aside, he can’t resist gliding through the other skaters, Morgan hanging off the back of his jacket. 

"Nice moves, kid!" Tony shouts as he and Pepper pass by at an impressive speed. 

"Go faster, Petey!" Morgan shouts, pulling on his coat. 

Bolstered by how much better he feels, Peter complies, picking up the speed until the chilly air is brushing sharply against his cheeks. He does another lap with Morgan at his back, then glides her towards MJ’s waiting hands before whirling off again, turning in experimental twists and zigzagging backwards. 

He pivots, catches a glimpse of MJ’s face sparkling prettily beneath all the lights, her smile near luminous, and then there’s nothing beneath his feet. 

It feels like it takes a long time for his face to make contact with the ice. As he flies through the air, no doubt looking as graceless as a flailing rhino, the scenery rushes past in beautiful streaks of colour, reminding him of the flash of the lights the night before. 

The nausea returns just as his face crashes into the ice, the _crunch_ of his nose rebounding in his ears as the coppery tang of blood instantly floods his mouth. 

He slides along a few feet, the sound of people shouting in surprise and horror quickly replacing much of the laughter and pleasant chatter that had filled the rink moments earlier. 

"Peter!"

"Jesus, kid, what the _hell - "_

Peter groans into the ice, head spinning, breathing thickly through the left corner of his mouth as the blood continues to trickle onto his lips. His arms, spread out either side of him, crook upwards as he tries to move, but he’s saved from the effort as someone grabs him by the shoulders and turns him over. 

"Oh, wow," Happy’s voice hisses. 

Peter peers up at his blurry outline. "S’it bad?" 

"You’ve had worse."

It’s nowhere near a comforting thought and judging from May’s little horrified gasp as she drops to her knees beside them, Peter can only assume he looks truly terrible. 

He really hopes MJ has suddenly found a way to not be here for this. 

More hands start to touch him, prodding at his sides and touching the space around his throbbing nose. Something soft presses just beneath it while someone sits behind him and tilts his head slightly forward. More blood touches his tongue and he moans unhappily, opening his eyes a little wider to try and clear the haze. He immediately finds MJ crouching by his feet, one hand resting on his ankle, doing her best to give him a comforting smile despite the fact he must look hideous. 

He moans again, much louder this time, and tries to wriggle free. 

"Steady there, Nutcracker," Tony’s voice says close to his ear. 

Peter takes a deep breath through his mouth and immediately regrets it. "M’gonna puke."

"No you’re not, kid."

"Really am."

"You’re not allowed. Think of saltine crackers, that’ll help."

Peter twists his head to glare at Tony, who merely gives him a smile that’s far too affectionate for this moment. The embarrassment is starting to settle in properly now, mixing with the pain radiating from his head down into the swirling depths of Peter’s stomach. His attempts to get up are quickly aided and he finds himself being pushed off the rink and onto a bench where Pepper begins removing his skates for him. 

"So much for super strength, huh?" Tony sighs. "Guess we can add hangovers to your increasing list of vulnerabilities."

Peter groans at him again. 

"Looks just like you did when you busted yours back in senior year, Tones," Rhodey says as he gets a closer look. "How you didn’t break your entire face still amazes me."

"Pure talent, that’s how."

"Pure luck, you mean," Pepper corrects. 

Tony throws a hand dramatically against his chest for wounded effect, then laughs. "Right, let’s see about fixing this before the freaky fast healing kicks in. Who wants to do the honours?"

"How about asking him first?" May scolds with an exasperated laugh. Her hand runs through Peter’s hair gently. "You okay with one of us setting your nose, sweetie?" 

Peter grunts and waves one of his hands in permission, because really what other choice does he have? They’ll just keep fussing over him anyway and he’s already made a complete idiot out of himself, so he figures he might as well let them get on with it. 

"Petey?"

"Mm?"

"You want me and MJ to hold your hand again?"

Peter shakes his head, thinking of the time he broke one of Tony’s fingers by squeezing too hard as Happy stitched a rather large gash on his back. Slacking super strength or not, he doesn't want to risk it. "Don’t wanna hurt you."

Morgan’s hands wrap around his left forearm a minute later, quickly followed by MJ’s around his right, close to his wrist. He gives them both a grateful smile, wincing as it pulls the muscles of his face. 

"Let me just clean you up a bit," May says, pulling a pack of tissues from her coat pocket. "You look like something out of a horror movie."

Peter groans but doesn’t try to stop her, closing one eye and holding still as she gently grips his chin with a thumb and forefinger and rubs the blood away from around his mouth. 

"You’re gonna end up with a nose like Ben’s at this rate," she scolds fondly.

"I kinda liked it," Peter says softly, picturing Ben’s face, his warm smile beneath the slightly bent bridge of his nose, a tiny groove nicking it on the right side. "You always said it gave him character."

"It did. You’re too young to pull off those kinds of rugged good looks yet though, mister." May gives his chin one more dab, kisses his forehead, then steps aside to let Happy, the apparent chosen one, come closer. 

"Ready?" he asks, lifting his hands towards Peter’s nose, touching it far more delicately than Peter expects him to. 

MJ squeezes his arm and Peter takes a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm - OW!" 

There’s a chorus of sympathetic hissing over the _crack_ of his nose. 

"Hang on," Happy grunts, moving his fingers a little further down, giving Peter no time to even protest before there’s another horrible _crunch_ and another groan, more of relief this time, from Peter _._ "There, think that’s got it."

"That was gross," Morgan says, delight clear in her voice. 

"Thanks, Mo," Peter slurs while lifting a hand to poke around his face. He squints at MJ as she strokes her thumb over his knuckles. "How’s it look?"

"Good as new!" Tony says cheerfully while MJ grimaces awkwardly. "More or less."

Peter sighs, far too exhausted and fed up and hungover to really care too much. "C’n we go home now?"

"Oh, can we wait just one second?" May asks quickly. "There’s a drinks stand over there, I wanna see if they have some of that hazelnut hot chocolate, or maybe some eggnog - "

With a hysterical moan, Peter buries his aching face into MJ’s shoulder and makes a vow to never so much as look at a glass of eggnog for the rest of his life. 

**Author's Note:**

> Poor Peter haha, he just can't catch a break. Thanks for reading!


End file.
